Miles to Go |
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Whose woods these are, I think I know, His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near, Between the woods and frozen lake, The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake, The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. -- Robert Frost |
A Dust of Snow The way a crow shook down on me The dust of snow from a hemlock tree Has given my heart a change of mood And saved some part of a day I had rued. -- Robert Frost |
May you find a grove of birch that nestles next to pine, Where light cascades the snow until the meadows shine. May you hear a tumbling stream refreshing old-age stones, And wander through the crunching snow that only nature owns. A walk in any season's woods where gentle things survive Can guide your inner paths of thought and sing your heart alive. -- Author Unknown |
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Music: Solitude Friday's Journal Whispers - Home Old New Orleans |